


Sixteen

by notjustmom



Series: The Boys in Sussex [17]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, M/M, Retirement, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: of course, a bit of angst first...sigh.





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock managed to sleep for a few more hours, before a rare nightmare startled him awake. "Damn. damn. DAMN." He sat up and tried to shake the memory away.

"Love?" John whispered as he laid a gentle hand on his back.

"I'm fine."

"Sherlock."

"I - it's - you know how I am when there's a big change - takes me time - my brain - it's -" Sherlock turned and wriggled his fingers in the air. He looked down into John's worried face and tried to smile, but couldn't. "A new one - just after - when you were holding my wrist, trying to find my pulse - I heard you - I heard all of it - I heard when you finally walked away - I wasn't sure I'd ever - sorry. I just need to get outside - need some air." 

John nodded and took Sherlock's hand in his, kissed his wrist, then let him go. Gertrude raised her head and their eyes met. John shook his head at her and scratched between her ears and mumbled, "he'll be fine, Gert. Let's give him a few minutes, then we'll go for a walk, yeah?"

Sherlock threw on his work clothes, then leaned over John and kissed him, "I -"

"I know - love you, too." John watched him leave their bedroom, then fell back into his pillows and sighed; he listened for the kitchen door to close and the sound of the tractor start up before he got out of bed. He put on his running clothes and slowly made his way to the kitchen, with Gertrude at his side. 

"Come on, Gert, let's go - ready for a run?"

After an hour, John slowed down, sat down on the gravel road and closed his eyes. He hadn't pushed himself so hard since - damn, basic training, maybe. He felt like he was running from something, maybe it was from that memory, of his fingers searching for any sign of life - damn it. He could see it, and feel it, could hear the sounds of that moment as if it were yesterday. Then he took a breath and opened his eyes. He turned his head and saw Gertrude waiting for him. She was done. Time to go home. He had to deal with it, he needed to talk about it, even if Sherlock didn't want to.

"Come on, girl - we can jog back - yeah?" Gertrude kept up with his slow pace, and matched it when he began walking. "Just tired - not trying to put it off -" He looked down at her and sighed. "Okay, yeah, but, damn, Gert, it - has to get easier - doesn't it? I thought - yeah, I know - hell." When they walked through the kitchen door, he could hear the shower going, but he fed Gertrude, then checked her water before she gave him 'the look.' "I'm going, I'm going."

He threw his clothes in the hamper and pulled back the shower curtain to find Sherlock sitting in the tub, his head resting against his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair, rocking gently.

"Hell, love." John stepped into the tub and wrapped himself around Sherlock. "No. Don't, please. Don't."

"John?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Tell me?"

"How?"

"Because."

"Not an acceptable answer."

"Bloody hell. Okay. Truth?"

"Truth."

"I died with you that day. I - lost everything when I left you there on the pavement. It took me a long time to accept it - that you were gone and were not coming back. Ever. I had to find a way to get on with things. I had never lost anyone - yes, I had lost men, men I couldn't save, watched good men die in front of me, friends, yes, some of them, but I had never lost anyone I loved before. And I - didn't think you knew. I thought if you had known how I felt, you wouldn't have been able to do it. I thought I was enough. For you. That's why I was so angry, so hurt, when you came back, as you did - looking perfect, god - not a hair out of place - that damned drawn on moustache - I - god - I'm so sorry, Sherlock. You have no idea how I wish I could take that night back - I just couldn't even think - I could barely breathe. That told me I was still in love with you, still loved you. And it hurt like hell. God, it did. I thought I had finally dealt with it - therapist's bills told me I had - I was going to get married. I was going to have a life without you - and then bam! But you know what?"

"What?" Sherlock mumbled almost too quietly for John to hear him over the sounds of the shower.

"I still loved you. And I forgave you. It took time, but I did, I forgave you - for all of it. I swear, Sherlock. I wouldn't, couldn't be here with you if I hadn't. I love you. I love this life we are making here. And yes, some days, I have moments, when I remember when you weren't - you weren't around. And I have to go find you, I have to make sure you are really there, here, with me. And then I can breathe again. I am here - I am sorry I wasn't here when you came back inside. I needed to remind myself."

Sherlock whispered, "of what?"

"I needed to feel it - what it felt like that day, to lose you. I needed to remember. How much it hurt, so I could finally just let it go - I keep thinking that I have, I thought I had - but there are things - that just sit there - you know?" He felt Sherlock nod in his arms, and he sighed. "And then it was time to come home, and be here with you, take care of you - and I want to, when you need me, I want to help - I want to be here, with you." Sherlock raised his head then turned in John's arms to face him, finally. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was shivering in the water that had turned cold two minutes ago, but he managed to smile at him and nod, as he sniffled. 

"I know, John. I'm sorry - do you think we can start today over?"

John shook his head. "But, I can help you out of the tub and into your robe and make you some tea and toast with honey and I can sit across from you at the table and gaze into your beautiful eyes, and listen if you want to talk, or just sit and I can talk and you can listen. Or we can both be quiet for a little while. Sound like a plan?"

Sherlock blinked at him and whispered, "sounds like a plan." Then he leaned in closer and kissed John's forehead, before he managed to stand up, and offer John his hand. "Course, I could always help you, instead?"

John took his hand and Sherlock helped him to his feet, then pulled him into his arms. "I - I don't know what I would do -"

"You'll never have to find out - I promise, Sherlock. I'm here, love."

 

When Harry knocked on the kitchen door an hour later, they were still sitting at the kitchen table, fingers entwined, all talked out.

"Ready?" John whispered.

"Ready."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sighed as she saw them sitting at the table nearly as still as statues, and turned back towards her mother. "Damn. Mum - shall we just go visit Z and Gladys, leave them to themselves, til they work out whatever it is -"

"We're finished - just had a morning. We just need to get cleaned up and we'll meet you at Z's?" John gave Harry and Grace a hug, and waved to Clara who had started unpacking the car.

"Is he - are you two okay?" 

"We are - it's just, yeah, we'll be there as soon as we can, yeah?"

Harry looked him in the eye and nodded, then turned towards the car; Grace reached out tentatively and touched John's face lightly, and he closed his eyes then leaned into her hand for a moment. "We'll be okay, Mum. It's just old stuff we needed to deal with - it just came up - as things do." He kissed her cheek then waved as they pulled out of the driveway.

Sherlock watched as John returned to the kitchen table and reached out for him with both hands. He hesitated for a moment, then laid his hands into John's and closed his eyes as John gently held them. "I'm sorr -"

John shook his head. "No - this is going to be different for us, you are sharing me, we are sharing our life with Grace, it's going to take time; I don't want you to feel like you are doing it wrong - I don't know what I'm doing either, it's going to be new for her, she hasn't lived with anyone for years. This is, well, it's an experiment, isn't it? Like everything else we've ever done?"

Sherlock laughed and shook his head. "I love you. I - just - "

"Trust me?"

Sherlock bit his lip and looked into John's eyes. "Of course I do."

John stood up and walked over to Sherlock's side of the table. "Then follow me, love." He stretched his hand out to Sherlock who took it and waited for John to lead them upstairs.

In silence, they undressed, then Sherlock turned on the shower and offered John his hand. They stood under the water and held onto each other, just reminding one another they were still there, where they were always supposed to be.

 

"Hey, Doc. The ladies are all inside, there may be some tea left for you if you hurry." Z grinned at them as they walked up the porch steps. John squeezed Sherlock's hand and went inside, while Gertrude led Sherlock to the chair next to Z, then curled up and fell asleep at his feet.

"Rough morning, hmm?" Z looked Sherlock over and nodded. "There'll be growing pains, son. That's all, and I know - you're still a bit insecure - just keep loving him, as you've been doing. You'll be just fine."

Sherlock closed his eyes and whispered, "I just don't want to let him down, Z."

"I know, son, I know."

They sat in silence for the next hour until Gladys came out and cleared her throat. "Sherlock, love, do you want to come and meet your bees?"

Sherlock sat up and looked first at Gladys, then at Z and finally beamed at John who was smiling gently at him from the doorway.

"Can I?" He glanced back at Gladys who nodded at him and gave him a wink.

"Go on, Sherlock, we'll bring them over tomorrow, but they are just in the backyard hive waiting, so go take a peek." Gladys went down the steps and around the back, and Sherlock got up and followed after her, his step lighter than when he arrived, and he was humming quietly to himself.

Z glanced up at John and knew he was strong enough for both of them today, and equally certain that life was going to be interesting for a while.

 

"John told me that you and Phil did a lot of work on the graveyard, do you mind -" Grace asked Sherlock as he jumped down from the truck. 

"Go ahead, love. I'll show Harry and Clara their new room, let them get settled..." John stopped as Sherlock looked over at him before they headed out into the pasture, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sherlock grinned at him as he linked arms with Grace, and John blew out a relieved breath, as he watched them move effortlessly together, then he turned towards the house and looked down at Gertrude. "It will work out, Gert. You'll see. Come on, let's get you some water, hmm?"

 

"This morning - " Grace began quietly.

"I had a nightmare - bad one - I traditionally don't do well with changes, and it had been too easy - ever since John was hurt, getting married, moving here - it's all gone so quickly, and you - Grace. It's everything I've ever wanted, and it feels - everything feels so perfect - and it is. But this morning, I woke up too early, went downstairs and wrote a couple of emails, then went back to bed - slept a few more hours and then in my head, I saw John the day I jumped - felt him checking for my pulse, and I couldn't tell him - I couldn't move, Grace - he wasn't supposed to be there - he wasn't supposed to see it - I never planned it that way - I swear. My timing as usual was off. It took everything I had not to call it all off - but he was in danger. So -"

"Sherlock. You don't owe me any explanations. Look at me, I know - I know how much you love him. Just remember, he loves you just as fiercely. I saw how he watched you sitting outside today with Z. He wanted to be out there with you, but he knew you needed to have time - and you two have time, now. You have time."

Sherlock stopped walking and turned towards her, then whispered, "Thank you, Grace. For being here."

Grace smiled at him then looked down and realised that he had opened the gate to the new fence that now enclosed the old graveyard. "Sherlock -"

"Phil is working on a sign for it, and we wanted to get it painted it in time, but didn't quite get to it, maybe you can help do that -"

"It's beautiful - and - what -?" She pointed to a chair near Emily's gravestone. 

"Phil and I thought you might like to have a place where you could sit and visit with her," Sherlock mumbled as he walked Grace over and watched as she sat down gingerly, then let out a breath, and smiled up at him. 

"Sherlock - you - don't have to prove anything to me. Just keep loving him - you make him so happy, just as you are. Even on the hardest days - there is nowhere else he wants to be, but by your side."

Sherlock nodded. "I promise, Grace. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

"Mum?" 

"Oh, sorry - didn't realise it was so late - I had forgotten how time is different here." Grace smiled up at him. "He's doing a lovely job - it's beginning to look like it did before, but it's more than I remember."

"We found some old plans in the Franklin records you told us about - and he's been working so hard, I've never seen him, I didn't know he could be so happy - he loves this place, Mum."

"He loves you," Grace stated simply. 

John stood quietly and looked out over the fields. "I just wish I could help him more."

"How?"

"I want to be able to wave a magic wand and take the pain away for him."

Grace got to her feet and whispered, "it doesn't work that way, John. I wanted to be able to do the same for Emily. I told her if I could, I would take her pain for her, and on her worst days, she would smile at me and squeeze my hand and tell me, 'it's how I know I'm still here, Gracie. You are easing my pain by being here - holding my hand and telling me stories - I know I'm not alone, and that's more than most people ever have, Gracie.' You make his pain lighter, John, you make him forget sometimes, and you are there when the memories threaten to drown him. I saw at dinner tonight - his eyes went somewhere else for a moment - and you touched his back and he took a breath and blinked, you brought him back. He's still here because you keep finding him, you reach in and rescue him from himself. Yes - he's told you that, hasn't he?"

John nodded. 

"You are enough, John. At the end of the day, if Sherlock had nothing else, but you, he wouldn't need anything else, but he is building this place, for you, for his family - he wants to leave something behind, something beautiful. You know all that, and you are helping him, just by being with him, John. Now. Hmm, Emily, this is John, the one I told you about - yes, the doctor, he and Sherlock - you met him earlier today - the beekeeper, the 'nearly a beekeeper' he called himself. Tomorrow, Glady is bringing the bees, the bees will be back tomorrow, Em. You'll be able to hear them again, soon, love. I'm going in, it's late, and I need a cuppa before bed - I know, I know, it's just habit -" she picked a rose from the neatly trimmed bush and laid it in front of the headstone, then kissed her fingers and touched Emily's name. "Night, love."

John whispered in a hoarse voice, "I used to - when he was gone, I would talk to him - just like that. Mum - I'm -"

"No, John. I'm just lucky I had so long with her - not many people get to love like we do. It takes courage to love as strongly as you do, John, when you know - damn, how long was I out here?"

"About five hours."

"You let me -" Grace reached for his hand, and he kissed her forehead and shook his head.

"This is your place, Mum, you can do whatever you want for as long as you want, we never lock the doors - you can come and go as the spirit moves you. We never locked the doors at Baker Street either, and somehow we survived -."

"Idiots."

John laughed as he took her arm gently. "Yes, yes we are, and yet -"

"Here you are."

"Tea."

John grinned at her and whispered, "tea. Was it your mum?"

Grace shook her head. "No, our Da, he was the one who was mad about tea. He was a sweet soul, John. Z is a lot like him, a bit pricklier, but that - I think was my doing."

"You know how happy he is to have you back, I saw him this morning, he was keeping an eye on you, making sure you -"

"I wasn't going to vanish on him. In the kitchen, before we left, he hugged me, and kissed my hair like he used to - I'm home, John. Finally home."

 

"She was saying good night to Emily."

Sherlock looked up from the bee book he was studying, saw something in John's eyes and closed it, then laid it aside. "John?"

"I used to - after work, before I met Mary, even after I met Mary - I would go and clear the leaves from around your marker, and tell you about my day, and touch your name - and I always said good night to you. Always."

Sherlock started to get out of bed, but John shook his head. "I used to think I was crazy, but - it's just part of - I don't know. I always felt like you were there somehow, listening." He pulled his shirt off and stepped out of his trousers and pants, then climbed into bed. "It made me feel less alone. The thought that somehow you could hear me." He laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder and closed his eyes as he felt strong arms hold him gently. 

"It was a good day, John."

John sighed and rested his hand over Sherlock's dog tags, then whispered, "yes, love, it was a good day. I love you."

"I love you. Good night, John."

"Good night, Sherlock."


	4. Chapter 4

"Morning, Phil!" 

"Morning, Sherlock - I finished the sign for the graveyard last night, wanted to bring it over, and I brought over that paint - Miz Grace - oh! Did you see - it's not quite finished yet, got busy at the store -"

Grace stood up and walked over to Phil and kissed his cheek. "It's lovely, Phil, and the chair is perfect - I just need to get a cushion if I continue to sit out there for five hours like I did last night." 

Phil blushed and rubbed his nose. "Do you want to help - oh, hi ladies - if you weren't busy - I mean Sherlock and John and I can do it, but I brought extra brushes, in case..."

Harry looked over at Clara and they grinned at him. "Did you get tea and some breakfast yet, Phil?"

"Uhm, no, not as yet - I know Sherlock's an early riser and thought we'd get a start on the fence before it got too hot -"

Sherlock winked at him and muttered, "you won't win, have a seat, Phil. Half an hour won't make a difference - I need to do a bit more mowing, I'll take the sign and paint over, and get started when I'm done. Take your time." He grabbed his bee hat from the hook by the door and nodded to the table, then whistled for Gertrude as he walked out the kitchen door.

"He actually wears that thing?" Phil whispered as he watched the door close behind Sherlock.

John walked into the kitchen then and laughed. "Only hat he ever wears, he loves it, Phil. Two sugars, yeah?"

"Right." He thanked John for the tea and looked at Harry and Clara nervously. "You don't have to help paint - I just want to get the fence painted before the weather changes, and before it rains again - such a weird summer."

Harry smiled at him over her tea. "It's been a while since I whitewashed anything - it will be fun, Phil. No worries. Now, breakfast, before Sherlock puts you to work - I've seen him work all day without stopping."

"Yeah, he's something - and he's so - I don't know - happy - I didn't think he'd be like that, and he's already asked me a lot of questions about the bees and he listens like I'm the only thing that exists - it's intense."

John nodded as he sat down. "He's mellowed a bit since our first case -" John shook his head. "A lot, actually. Used to be he couldn't listen - he was always ten miles ahead of anyone, he was usually right, but it made working with other people, uhm, difficult, as you might guess. But, he is really excited to be working with you and Gladys, all he thinks about lately are the bees - speaking of which, the bees should be arriving later this morning."

Phil nodded as Harry put a loaded plate in front of him. "Dad is bringing them over in a couple of hours, he'll bring Gladys over too - she's - she keeps coming into the store buying this and that, she's over the moon about you guys." He took a couple of bites, and his eyes lit up."Damn, these beans are brilliant!"

John laughed and muttered, "Yep, my sister is brilliant, Phil." He finished his tea and looked around for a moment. "He take Gert with him?"

Clara nodded. "Yeah, said he didn't have much to do, then he was going to start painting when he was finished."

"Good - Mum, can I show you something before you get knee deep in paint?"

"Sure." Grace got up from the table and gave Harry and Clara each a kiss, then followed John over to the desk.

"I - Roberta, she gave me these when we visited the library -" He pulled out the envelope and handed it to her. "I finally have something I want to write about, if it's okay with you. If it's - Mum?"

"Oh. John." Grace glanced up at him and couldn't speak for a moment, then she sat down hard in the chair and carefully placed the snaps out on the desk. "I've never seen - I didn't know - Howie - that summer. Does he have more of these - I mean, I knew he took photos that summer, he never went anywhere without that camera, he was so proud of it." Grace looked up again and John saw the girl she had once been in her eyes.

"I've already spoken to him, he has the negatives still, he was going to work on them, and see what he can do. I want -"

"John? Just ask - anything."

John suddenly found a board in the floor interesting and couldn't meet her eyes. He mumbled,"I want to write a book about you and Emily, maybe a children's book - but I want to tell your story - not about what happened after, just your story - it could. I mean. If you don't, I understand. I just think if I had seen a book when I was a kid about two girls or-"

Grace stood up and touched his face just enough to make him meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry, John. Of course, of course you have my blessing. Emily would be tickled to think we are the makings of a story. She - do you know - how very proud I am of you, John?"

"Mum." He touched her hand lightly, and bit his lip.

"I am so very proud of all of my children, my two sons, and my two daughters. I am so very lucky, John."

"Hmm. I uhm. I should go - help paint, I - we'll talk about this, later?" 

Grace nodded and let him go. "I love you. I'm sorry I never -"

"Love you too, Mum - I just suck at this kind of thing - I cried at my own wedding, my second one, the real one - just ask Sherlock. I do love you, Mum." John kissed her head, then walked to the kitchen, put on his shoes and walked out into the sunlit morning.


	5. Chapter 5

When Harry found him, he was sitting in the chair in front of Emily's grave.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I will be. I just - have times when I have to sit and reorganize things, you know?"

Harry sat next to him and whispered, "yeah, I know."

"Ever since our last case - when Sherlock finally told me how he felt about me, and I let him know I felt the same way, things have kind of spiraled, in good ways; having you and Clara and Mum in our lives, and Z and Gladys, even Howard and Phil - I thought, not so long ago, that I was meant to be alone, and I was used to it, I didn't know any different. And now -"

"Yeah. It feels as if my DNA has been untwisted and been reassembled - I feel like I breathe differently now, because I feel lighter and fuller and just so loved, John. I had been with Clara for a long time, I had her, but even with her, I guess, especially with her, I find I am kinder, more, I just want to give her more, because I want to make sure she knows how much I love her. I see her with Sherlock and Mum, and I have finally given her a family, the family she had wanted, but we couldn't - we tried, but it never happened, and now, because of you, and Sherlock -"

John looked over at her and smiled.

"Hey, are you two gonna sit on your arses all day, or are you gonna help us paint?" Sherlock bellowed as he came up the hill, with Phil and Gertrude at his heels; Clara and Grace close behind them.

"Family," John snorted. "Twoo luv..."

Harry laughed as she stood up and gave him a hug. "Love you."

"Yeah, I love you, too, Harry."

 

Somehow, together they managed to paint the fence in about an hour, just in time for Howard to arrive with Gladys and the bees. John watched Sherlock's face change, and he wished he could stop time and bottle up that joy, save it up, somehow, but he understood to let it be. He took a breath and focused on the streaks of paint in his husband's dark hair. 

"John." Sherlock was standing next to him as Howard and Gladys prepared to add the nuc of bees into the first box; Gladys had warned Sherlock that they were starting rather late in the season, but one never knew with bees, especially on this farm. They had set up the boxes so they were surrounded by the clover, and they had discovered a patch of lavender which was just about to bloom. Sherlock was already planning the flowers he wanted to plant early next spring, John was sure there were nights when he dreamed in flowers. John moved closer to him as he felt Sherlock's fingers thread with his and hold on tightly. 

"Gracie - I brought you one of my extra suits, if you want to help?"

"Glady, are you sure, it's been -"

"Grace. You know these bees, they know you - come on girl, show off a bit for these children of yours. Show 'em what's what."

Grace shook her head at Gladys, but easily slipped the suit on and drew on the gloves. "You bought this one special, Gladys Moses."

"So what if I did. Get over here and give us a hand."

Grace adjusted the veil and took over for Gladys, gently shaking the bees into their new home. They would release the queen over a few days and in a little over a week, if all went well, the colony would begin to grow. John watched as Grace checked to be sure the queen was placed just right, and fit the hive back together, as if she had done it hundreds of times. She stepped back and lifted the veil. "Give it some time, Sherlock, it sounds like a good one. You're right, Gladys, I know these bees, well, I knew their ancestors, they sound just the same, Glady." She handed Gladys the long gloves as she pulled them off, then turned towards Sherlock. "Thank you, Sherlock. For bringing us home." 

He lowered his head, but she wrapped her arms around him, and something in John broke when Sherlock dropped his head onto her shoulder and held onto her, as he whispered, "thank you for John." Harry draped her arm around John's shoulder, and he rested against her. 

"This is what it feels like to feel whole, Harry."

"Yeah, kiddo. Bees and tea, who knew, hmm?"

Grace pulled back and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "You and John go get cleaned up, we'll make some tea in a bit, go on." Sherlock kissed her head and reached for John's hand, then held on tightly as he walked them silently back to the house.

 

John turned on the taps and turned back around to watch Sherlock pull off his shirt. "Have I told you how absolutely gorgeous you are today?"

Sherlock's iridescent eyes danced at him as he moved closer and held John's face gently in his large hands, kissing him long and slow, until John was lost. "I've wanted to do that all morning," he whispered against John's parted lips. He lifted John's shirt over his head, then worked his shorts and pants off, letting them fall to the floor. He pulled John against him and gently moaned. "John."

"I know, Sherlock." He reached his hand between them and stroked Sherlock to full hardness, relishing the idea that the man in front of him, his strong, brilliant, beautiful man was trembling as he whispered his name. "I love you, so very much, my heart."

"John."


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was sitting on the couch with Clara asleep in her arms when Sherlock and John came downstairs in search of tea.

"Early morning - too early today." Harry grinned at them and nodded at the kitchen. "Gladys and Mum are putting tea together, Phil is trying to eat all the biscuits, if you want some you better -" Clara moved in her sleep and Harry held her tighter, whispered something at her ear, and Clara resettled again.

John grinned at her and pushed Sherlock towards the kitchen. He stopped as he saw his mother and aunt sitting at the table looking at a scrapbook he hadn't remembered seeing before. "Mum?" 

"John. One of the few things I brought from - the house - come see." He hesitated just enough that Sherlock gently directed him to the table and sat him down.

"I - well, you'll see." Grace pushed the book across the table and closed her eyes, as he opened it.

"Oh. Hmm. I had forgotten - what he looked like. He actually looks quite human when he - I don't ever remember him smiling." Sherlock laid a grounding hand on his shoulder, and John managed to breathe as he turned the page. "Harry - god - she was -"

"The camera loved her," Sherlock murmured as he turned the page. 

"It ends when she was one year and three months. That's when he changed - he never told me why - he just -we never really talked after that night - and except for - one night - he never - we never - I wanted you, John - always - you were so good - there was something in your eyes that told me it would be okay, eventually. I just didn't think it would take this long - I'm sorry."

For once, John couldn't move enough to run, he felt the warmth of Sherlock's hand through his lightweight shirt, and nodded. "I know, Mum. I'm sorry, too." He looked up at her and met his own eyes, softened by time, asking for understanding, needing him to give her something. Finally, he touched Sherlock's hand and Sherlock moved far enough away to let John get up from his chair, but not too far.

John walked over to Grace and helped her to her feet. "Mum, I - I didn't know how much I needed, to know, to hear you say that, even if I don't know what it is I have to forgive you for, I know it took a long time, almost too long, but look, look at what we have now. There isn't another thing I will ever need, or want, because I have everything. Everything I could ever want, except, maybe a cuppa and a couple of biscuits before Phil eats them all?"

The room exploded into laughter, as Phil looked up from his laptop, earbuds neatly in place, a biscuit in his hand. "Huh? What? What did I miss?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I can imagine the thirty-something Phil, being so plugged into his computer that he would completely miss the scene that went around him. Seen it happen before. <3


End file.
